I was curious about Lyle’s reading of his distant encounter with the waving west ender yesterday. He had the distinct impression that he was mistaken for someone else, for the individual waved a couple of times, then stopped and withdrew.
I decided to make another attempt at contact. Our crews were returning when I passed through the fields on the way out to the vineyards.
The west end fields were deserted more than usual. Hope dwindled as I approached the vineyards.
I was hesitant to leave, so I remained to meditate on past visions of the desert.
Turning to go, I nearly ran into a woman. She put a note in my hand, smiled and left.
She wants to meet.